Credit: Christopher Evans

Credit: Christopher Evans

FORT MYERS — The image flickers to life with the wobble of a poorly calibrated vertical hold, like a 1980s VHS tape. The first words on the screen are a drop-shadowed “Brewer Baseball ’87” in Helvetica font, and as Red Sox pitching coach Juan Nieves sits to watch his greatest moment in the big leagues for the first time since that raw Baltimore night 26 years ago, he’s struck by the passage of time.

“I haven’t seen this tape,” he says with a hint of curiosity. “I’ve never sat down and watched it.”

On April 15, 1987, Nieves was a promising second-year left-hander with spotty command. Five nights earlier, the Texas Rangers had teed off on him for eight hits and six runs, but the streaking Milwaukee Brewers won anyway.

When they took the field following a two-hour rain delay at Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium, they were trying to improve to 9-0. They’d do so in remarkable fashion, with Nieves throwing what remains the only no-hitter in team history, the final out memorably coming on Robin Yount’s diving catch in center field.

But as Nieves bused to the park that day, he wasn’t thinking history.

“I never thought about the lineup I was facing, or who the hitters were or how I’d pitch them,” he says. “It was always the same thing — God, I hope I throw strikes today.”

Nieves threw 75 of them that night on 128 pitches. And though it wasn’t always pretty — he walked five — it was historic. MLB Productions provided the Herald with a DVD of the game, and listening to Nieves discuss it in real time provided insight into how he’ll approach a job he has basically spent his life preparing to fill.

“I threw a no-hitter in the big leagues,” Nieves says. “A blind squirrel found a nut. Hey, listen, I give thanks to God for giving me the chance to pitch in the big leagues. That was my dream. Unfortunately, my career was very short because of injuries. To an extent you go, ‘You know what? I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pitch at that level.’ It wasn’t that I didn’t work enough. I was probably the most annoying pitcher ever, constantly asking, ‘What else can I do?’ But not having the technology we have now, in a way, it was very sad.

“But you know what? I’ve been very blessed to be able to watch this game in front-row seats now since I retired and coach guys and see them come in as young men and become men, become fathers, have kids. I’ve been a part of teams that have won. It’s amazing. I’ve been blessed. I’ve been truly blessed.”

THE EARLY INNINGS: Finding a feel

The announced crowd of 11,407 looks a good deal smaller as the broadcast begins. Nieves is immediately struck by his appearance.

“I look in shape there, huh?” he says.

At 6-foot-3 and 175 pounds, the 22-year-old is barely four years removed from his record-setting career at Avon Old Farms in Connecticut. Leadoff man Ken Gerhart rolls a 1-2 fastball to short, and the no-hitter nearly ends before it starts, but Dale Sveum’s throw nips Gerhart by half a step.

As Nieves watches, however, the pitching coach in him blanches.

“That’s a horrible delivery,” he says. “I had a very poor delivery, and I was always erratic. A lot of times, people talk about the results and the symptoms — you’re missing up, you’re missing down, your arm angle changes — that’s the disease. The cure starts from the legs up. For me it starts on delivery, not arm.”

It doesn’t take a pitching coach to see Nieves’ delivery lacks fluidity. He often throws across his body and falls off to the left as he throws and to the right as he lands, with his weight back instead of over his right plant leg.

Eddie Murray leads off the second with a jam shot to left that a charging Jim Paciorek snares with an outstanding diving catch in no-man’s land between two retreating infielders.

“That was a hell of a play,” Nieves says. “Every no-hitter has a couple of those.”

Nieves walks Ray Knight on a couple of close pitches and swipes at the dirt. As Knight leads off first, Nieves sighs at the TV.

“Stopping looking over,” he scolds. “I’m looking at Ray Knight and he can’t run. Unbelievable. What was I thinking?”

Nieves continues breaking down his delivery after missing high to Lee Lacy.

“See that kickout? I (couldn’t keep) my foot under my knee the whole time,” he says. “You open the gate up and you’re never able to stay in the hallway.”

The “hallway,” as Nieves calls it, is the narrow lane a pitcher needs to navigate from windup through release. What happens thereafter is less important, but a pitcher who can’t keep his energy focused in one direction as he throws will lose command and power, while placing extra strain on his arm.

“It’s very important that you take all of your effort into the strike zone,” Nieves says. “Once you land, a lot of guys come off to one side or the other, but on that ride to the plate, at the end of that lateral ride, you want to make sure you stay in that narrow hallway so you can finish the pitch. Instead of landing open like me and exiting the hallway to the right.”

As the game progresses, Nieves keeps returning to his delivery. Gerhart nearly puts the Orioles on the board in the third with a mammoth home run to left, but it drifts foul.

“Oh my God, what a bad delivery,” Nieves says. “Oh my God. Oh my God. You know, I’ve evaluated so many guys’ deliveries now, and I watch this and I say . . . wow. Strikes are on the delivery, not the arm. You can have a great feel for four pitches and not throw the ball over the plate, because there’s something in your delivery that’s horrible. Just look at mine.”

THE MIDDLE INNINGS: Getting in groove

Nieves was a phenom after coming stateside for high school, going 19-1 with a 1.05 ERA. He had the grades to attend USC or Stanford, but in 1987, Puerto Rican players were still considered international free agents. The Brewers signed him for a reported $150,000.

He reached the big leagues in 1986 at age 21 on the strength of his 96-mph fastball. He won 11 games, but pitchers weren’t considered the investments then that they are now. Organizations took a macho approach to young hurlers, and if Nieves sounds bitter, he’s not singling out the Brewers for an attitude held across the game.

“A lot of old-school guys would say, ‘Throw the ball over the plate,’ ” Nieves says now. “Well, how do you do it consistently? When people see a kid and he’s ball one, ball two, ball three, and he’s all wild, the first thing they say — and I hate hearing this — is, ‘He’s got no heart.’ Do you really think we’re out there trying to throw a ball on every pitch? No! There’s something not triggering that’s making a pitcher inconsistent. We have to find out what it is.”

Cal Ripken leads off the fourth by dropping the bat head on a good pitch down and in, lining wickedly to Paul Molitor at third. Nieves walks Lacy in the fifth before getting out of trouble on another liner to Molitor, this one by Floyd Rayford.

At this point, he has already thrown 85 pitches.

“I was out there either dying a slow death or a slow survival,” he says, “and neither of them are very good. You shoot yourself in the foot by walking guys. This is a very ugly game from a kid that was a little bit clueless out there. No plan, no routine. I’m not saying I had incredible stuff. I had decent stuff, but it was nothing compared to guys now. I had a good arm and my ball had life, but no command.

“The thing is, if I didn’t know what I was throwing, they didn’t either. The hitters had no clue. It was interesting.”

THE LATE INNINGS: Bringing it home

Nieves still shakes his head at the fact that he was allowed to throw 1842⁄3 innings at age 21 and then another 1952⁄3 a year later. Little did he know that Year 3 would be his last, done in after just 1101⁄3 innings — and just as he started to harness his changeup and feel like a legit big leaguer — by arm troubles that made the following decade one long, failed comeback.

“Imagine a 21-year-old kid nowadays,” Nieves says. “First year in the big leagues, he throws 185 innings. Would you do that? Pitching counters, throwing programs, weight training, we had none of that.

“I’m a power guy with nothing in the tank. I’m a lefty at 175 pounds with a bad delivery who can’t throw strikes and by the sixth inning, watch out. So you’re not doing squats to strengthen your core. You’re not doing anything to stay in the hallway. Now, people value pitching more. It wasn’t only me, but a lot of guys broke down. Billy Wegman broke down. (Chris) Bosio broke down. (Teddy) Higuera broke down. It was a different era. I don’t remember too many young (pitchers) who came to the big leagues and stayed there for a long time. Even (Dwight) Gooden broke down.

“When you took the mixture of my innings pitched with my poor delivery, that’s a time bomb.”

Nieves still has something in the tank in the eighth, though, when he blows away John Shelby for the third time swinging. He gets a scare one batter later when Rayford rips a hanging curveball into the second deck in left — just barely foul.

“No!” Nieves clearly yells on the mound as Rayford connects.

“Whew, foul ball,” Nieves says in the present. “That looked like a home run by the way he swung. That was a bomb, too. Look at that ball. Hanging breaking ball, middle in. I’m probably going to go hard in, here.”

Sure enough, Nieves ties up Rayford with a fastball before striking him out for his seventh and final K of the night. All of them are swinging.

“Look at this kid,” Nieves says. “Pretty good heater, huh?”

That brings us to the ninth. Brewers announcer Bill Paschke informs the audience that, “Nieves has been very sharp tonight.”

He has thrown 121 pitches, and requires just two to retire Gerhart and Rick Burleson on liners to Molitor at third. After a four-pitch walk to Ripken, Murray ends things by launching one to right-center that Yount tracks from the second it leaves the bat, diving to give the night its final flourish. Yount later tells Nieves he could’ve caught the ball on the run.

“And that was all he wrote,” Nieves says, back in the present. “That was a fun, fun time.”

Before ducking out the door to run a workout on a back field at JetBlue Park, Nieves looks over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says. “It was a pleasure. The dominance of being effectively wild.”